A TABLOID 



A TABLOID 



A TRAGIC FARCE 



By 
ARTHUR ECKERSLEY 



Copyright, 1914, by Samuel French, Ltd 



New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 

28-30 WEST 38TH STREET 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 



FfcB 4 19H 
©C!.D 35911 



A TABLOID 

Produced at the 'i.iui\ Theatre, London, on Tuesday, 
November 5, 191 3, ^v^t!^ tJie following cast : — 



Sherwood {A Dramatisl) . 
Knight {his friend) . 
TtioRNDiKE {an old actnr) . 



Mr. Athol Stewart. 
Mr. Arthur Vezin. 
Mr. Fisher Wlvite. 



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A TABLOID 



Scene. — Sherwood's chambers. Handsomely fur- 
nished room. Door to hall l. of back, with outer 
door seen beyond it. Table c. littered with writing 
materials. Reading lamp on it. Easy chair r. of 
table, other chair l. of it. Sideboard c. of back, 
bearing decanter, syphons and glasses. 

Time. — Close on midnight. 

As curtain rises, enter L.c. Sherwood, a handsome 
man of about 40, followed by Knight, slightly 
younger. Both are in evening dress, with overcoats 
and opera hats. Sherwood turns on the light. 

Sherwood. Well, here we are. What's the 
time ? 

Knight. Nearly twelve. The very- \vitching 
hour, what ? 

Sherwood. Humph ! One advantage of our 
English habits is that you get home in time to do a 
bit of work before turning in. Have a whisky ? 

Knight. No thanks. Don't know why I came 
up this extra flight of stairs. Must be toddling down 
again to my own room now. 

Sherwood. Rot. I don't really want to start 
writing straight off. 

Knight. Then you ought to. Lord, Sherwood, 
if my work brought me in as much as yours, I'd 
grudge every minute I spent away from it. 

Sherwood. Stuff ! 

7 



gf A TABLOID; 

'Knight. Lucky devil ! Here you are with a play 
running that's the rage of London, making one.fortune 
fdr you while you wait, and nothing to do but ;to sit 
ddwii ' and write another. 

Sherwood (comes down to ic-ble, fingers M.S.). 
Yes. Here's the other. Hah: fin.ished already. 
■ Knight. What did I tell you ? Behold the suc- 
cessful dramatist, without a care or an enemy in the 
world. 
"Sherwood (frowns slightly). Humph! 
'Knight. That's true, isn't it? 

Sherwood. Without an enemy in the world ? 
Well yes, perhaps. None to speak of. 

Knight. I knew it. And half the managers in 
tdwn on their knees for that manuscript. (Curiously.) 
Is that the play about the man who commits a 
murder ? 

Sherwood. Yes. It's the one I was telling you 
of t'o-iiight in the bar. 

' Knight. Ah ! You said you didn't know what 
the hero's sensations would be, and you'd half a mind 
to try a murder yourself to find out. 

'Sherwood. That's it. (Laughs.) My idea of 
humour. 

Knight (gravely). You don't mind my saying so, 
old' man, but I think, if I were you, I wouldn't say 
things like that, in public — even humorously. 

SMEkwooD. Oh my dear fellow, why not ? 
' itlsfiGHT. One never knows. They might come to 
bear an awkward meaning. 

Sherwood. Rubbish ! How could they? ;, 
' K'niGHt. As I say, one never knows. There w^re 
hkif-a-dozen men in that bar to-night who may have 
overheard you. As a matter of fact, I saw that some 
of them did. They looked round curiously. 

Sherwood. Perhaps. You make me appear 
horribly conceited, but — — : , 

'Ki^i<iHT. Oh yes, I know ; you're getting somer 
thing of a celebrity. But that wasn't exactly their 



A TABLOID. » 

expressibn:. At least (thoughtjuliy) not one q( tliem. 

Sherwoo d . i One of t hem ?. f . ; i T' , ■. y j ^ : < •., 

Knight. A fellow in the corner. Yoii,had yourj 
back to him. He overheard every word, and I c0uf4' 
swear he laughed — rather qucerly. Not exactly at 
you. It was the others he was watching. 

Sherwood {impatiently). My dear chap, how 
mysterious you are to-night. What on earth arc you 
driving at ? What was this fellow like ? 

Knight. Oh the usual type of old actor ; out of 
work I should say. vSallow, and down at heel goner- 
ally. 

Sherwood. Old actor ? (Shows some agitation.) 

Knight. \^es. Do you think you know him ? 

Sherwood. Oh I know many old actors, and 
they're most of 'em out of work. 

Knight. Why did you start then ? 

Sherwood. Did I? Oh well, when I said 1 
hadn't an enemy in the world, I perhaps exaggerated. 
As a matter of fact there is one man, who I suppose 
comes under that definition. 

Knight. And you think this may have been he ?: 

Sherwood [lightly). Holmes, you're a miracle., 
I've no reason to think so really, except that he is— ^ 
or was — an actor. I've not seen him for ages. 

Knight. If mine was the fellow, you needn't 
doubt his being your enemy. 

Sherwood. Well, he can't do me much harm now. 
And if he tries, in that case I might begin my murder- 
ing experiments with a double object, eh ? 

Knight. Don't old rhan. Get yourself out of tliat 
habit of talking reckless nonsense, or you'll be sorry 
for it, some day. Well, I said I wasn't going to keepi 
you, and here I am croaking like an old woman. . 

Sherwood. Don't worry about me. 

Knight. All right. I'll be off, and leave you to 
the masterpiece. Good-night old chap. I sba.fl.i 
think of you over my head, wrestling with inspiratipiii. 
I might! even hear you if you wrestle hard eno^^J>i,v 
these floors are jolly thin. 



10 A TABLOID. 

Sherwood. Well I hope you won't, for your sake. 
Good-night. 

Knight. Good-night. 

(Both up to outer door, which Sherwood opens.) 

Hullo, they've put the light out on the stairs. Never 
mind, I can find my way down one flight. So long. 

(His voice is heard receding. Sherwood then shuts 
outer door, switches off light' in hall, and returns 
slowly into room.) 

Sherwood (stands c. hy table. Speaks thoughtfully 
to himself). An old out-of-work actor. Queer, if it 
should be the same, when I've been thinking so much 
of him lately. 

(Rouses himself.) 

Well — you can't make an omelette without breaking 
eggs, and I did no more than many another would 
have done in my place. Still — if he should come, and 

try to threaten 

What rubbish ! As if it was likely ! Now then 
to work. 

(Takes off dress coat and puts on velvet jacket. Then 
turns on reading lamp, puts out other light, and sits 
R. of table. Lights pipe.) 

If I was onl}' as sure of myself as dear old Bobbie 
Knight imagines me. Wouldn't do to come a howler 
over the second, after a success like my first. People 
might begin to think it odd. Well, here goes. 

(Draws papers towards him, and begins to read, a 
slight pause. Then gentle knocking is heard on 
outer door L.c. Sherwood glances up. Knocking 
repeated. His face begins to show some uneasiness.) 

Queer ! Some one outside, at this hour. Oh ! 
(Reassuringli!.) It must be old Bob come back for 
.something. (Knocking again.) .Unless 



A TABLOID. 11 

{With a quick movement he gets up, extinguishes. pi^pe 
and goes into hall, turning on light. He opens (^u^ter 
door. Against the darkness beyond, you see, stand- 
ing on the threshold, an elderly, pale man, shahbi'ty 
dressed, like a decayed actor. * . ■ ; 

He looks steadily at Sherwood for a moment, lijithoiti 
speaking.) 

Sherwood (sharply). What is it ? W'hat do you 
want ? 

Thorndike. You know. 

Sherwood. Oh it's j^ou, is it ? (A slight pause,, 
then quickly) Come in. 

Thorndike [entering). That's better. That's 
more hke your friendly, hospitable self, Mr. Sherwood. 
I felt sure you'd be glad to see me. 

Sherwood (follows him into room, after closing outer, 
door). Then you felt wrong. I'm not glad to see 
you. As a matter of fact, I'm very busy. 

Thorndike (leering). Another play, Mr. Sher- 
wood ? 
I see it is. Quite a coincidence, my visit. 

Sherwood. Look here, I won't pretend I don't 
guess what you've come for. You want money, eli ? 

Thorndike. You put the matter very bluntly, 
Mr. Sherwood. 

Sherwood. I've no time to waste. How much ? 
Here's five pounds, will that satisfy you ? 

Thorndike. Oh dear, dear. I'd much rather, 
that we sat down and talked over the matter in a 
friendly spirit. Y'ou mustn't imagine that I'Ve 
come to blackmail you, Mr. Sherwood. 

Sherwood (short laugh). It looks rather like it, 
doesn't it ? 

Thorndike (has reseated himself l. of table),^ 
Well, appearances are so often deceptive. Fory 
example — here are you, the author of that successful, 
play, rich, and famous. People wouldn't think, to 



12 A TABLOID. 

look at us two, that it was really my play, would they ? 

Sherwood (sits k. of table, watching hini). Well ? 

Thorndike. Well — however I've no wish to make 
accusations — unless I'm obhged. 

Sherwood. Exactly ; I understand that as a 
threat, eh ? 

Thorndike, Oh dear, you do twist my words. 
{Looking round room.) Very agreeable quarters, 
these, Mr. Sherwood. Circumstances have altered 
since I last had the pleasure of talking to you. 

Sherwood. That was some years ago. 

Thorndike. Three years, Mr. vSherwood, since 
we were on tour together, and I did myself the honour 
to show you that little scheme of mine, that idea for 
a play (chuckles gently) the play. 

Sherwood. Hadn't you better come to the point ? 

Thorndike. You were very interested in the idea, 
and praised it. I remember thinking at the time how 
kind that was of you. 

Sherwood (rises impatiently). And afterwards — 
since you won't say what you mean, I'll say it myself 
—I took the idea and used it for my own ends ; made 
money out of it, which you think should have been 
yours, eh ? 

Thorndike (gently reminiscent). It's not only the 
money, Mr. Sherwood ; there are other little matters 
between us. I always consider, in my fanciful way> 
that it was you who killed my wife. 

Sherwood. I ? 

Thorndike. She was a foolish woman, and per- 
haps over sanguine. But she believed a great deal 
in that play of mine, and the shock of — of what hap- 
pened — helped, undoubtedly — to kill her. 

Sherwood. Have you come here to-night to 
threaten me ? ' 

Thorndike. Oh Mr. Sherwood! Just when we 
were chatting together so pleasantly over old times: 

Sherwood. You've not answeri^d: my question. 
How much do you want? 



A TABLOID. 13 

Thorndike, I want (meaningly) a great deal from 
you, Mr. Sherwood. 

Sherwood. Well, I'll make it ten pounds. 

Thorndike. Ten pounds now, and some more in a 
little time. I dare say I shall often drop in. 

Sherwood. And if I defied you ? You can 
prove nothing. That my play bears some vague 
resemblance to an idea of yours. That sort of accusa- 
tion has been brought often enough, and always 
failed. You should know that. 

Thorndike. But it hardly does a beginner any 
good, Mr. Sherwood. Not one who is just making 
his name. That's what you are going to pay me to 
prevent. 

Sherwood. Well I've said how far I'll go. Ten 
pounds now, and — perhaps — another later on. You 
can't bleed me for ever. After that, you may starve. 
for all I care ; and the sooner the better. 

Thorndike (gently). Not starve, Mr. Sherwood. 
Starvation isn't a pleasant death. 

Sherwood (brutal). Please yourself. 

Thorndike. It was starvation — and grief — that 
killed my dear wife. Starvation isn't a pleasant 
death to watch either. Fortunately, I have some 
friends who would save me from that. 

Sherwood. Are there others that you get money 
from then ? , 

Thorndike, Oh dear me no, Mr. Sherwood. Not 
that kind of friends at all. I was alluding— 

(fumbles in his, pocket) (produces small phial of 

tabloids.) 
— to these. 

Sherwood (curious in spite of himself). Those ? 

Thorndike. The one universal friend of failures 
like me. We needn't mention his name ; but these^^ 
(removes .stopper, fingers phial almost lovingly.). 
these are his little ministers. • ' 

Sherwood (fascinated). You mean — death? 



14' A TABLOID. 

Thorndike. Put one of these in your drink — ■ 
tasteless and undetectable afterwards they tell me. 
No pain, and in three minutes (smiles) you'd be as 
wise as Soloman. It's an old prescription that I've 
had for many years. 

Sherwood (fiercely). Why do you carrj^ them 
about with you ? Why do you bring them here, 
to-night ? 

Thorndike (mild astonishment). I always carry 
them about with me, Mr. Sherwood, in case of need. 
After all, one never knows. 

Sherwood. One never knows ? 

Thorndike. What might happen. 

(In fumbling with the phial, he overturns it. The 
tabloids are spilled on the table towards Sherwood.) 

Oh, I've upset them. How very unfortunate ! We 
must gather them all up — carefully. 

Sherwood (repeats as though dazed). One never 
knows what might happen. 

Thorndike (gathering the tabloids with eagerness). 
It wouldn't do to leave any of these lying about, 
would it ? No, no. They're too precious for that. 
One, two, three, four, five- — I thought there were six. 

[He appears not to notice that Sherwood has covered 
one with his hand. Gathers the others into phial.) 

Ha ! ha ! It shows what confidence I have in you 
Mr. Sherwood, to come to your rooms like this ; all 
alone, at dead of night, and show you the way to get 
rid of me. I suppose, ha ! ha ! you're the one man 
in the world who stands to gain anything by it. 

Sherwood (furious). You old devil ! Take your 
money, there it is. Now go ! Go quickly ! 

(He dare not look at him.) 

Thorndike. Yes, Mr. Sherwood, I'm going. 
(Pockets note.) Ten pounds. The first instalment 
of my ha ! ha ! my little income. 



A TABLOID. 15 

Sherwood. Go ! 

Thorndike {smiling). It's very late, sir. You 
couldn't stand an old friend a drink before he goes ? 
Something to keep out the cold. 

Sherwood. Will you go if I do ? 

Thorndike. Certainl}^ of course, Mr. Sherwood 
sir, I'll go at once. 

(Sherwood impatiently turns up and mixes a drink 
at sideboard c. He still has the drug in his hand.) 

Sherwood. Very well then. 

Thorndike (still seated l. of table. Apparentlv 
musing happily to himself). Yes, I'll go. But I shall 
come back. Oh naturally I shall come back. Very 
often. Perhaps when j^ou least expect me, I shall 
drop in some evening, like this, and then you'll give 
me more money, because you'll be afraid of me. 
And — and the jest will be that you'll never know — 
when I'm — coming. 

{With slow enjoyment.) 

Sherwood {up c. with glass). Take care, you can 
go too far. I've warned you— take care. 

Thorndike {as though not heeding). I heard that 
you were engaged to be married, Mr. Sherwood, to a 
very charming young lady. Ha ! ha ! My little 
tale might interest her, mightn't it ? 

Sherwood {hoarsely, his hand shaking). You don't 
know what you're doing. 

Thorndike. Oh yes I do. I'm going to make you 
pay now. For as long as I live, you're going to be 
made to pay. 

Sherwood. Then if I must, I must. For — as long 
as you live. {Unseen by Thorndike, he drops tabloid 
in glass — the liquid fizzes for a moment, then is clear 
as before.) 

Thorndike {seems to have noticed nothing). Ha! 
ha ! That's better. That's your reasonable self 



16 A TABLOID. 

again. I knew you'd come round. And rtiy drink 
mixed with your own hands. Very hospitable, I'm 
.sure. ' ■ ':;' '^'■•''^'■- • ,'■• '^ 

(Hejakes the tumbler from She^wooj);, who, i$ staring 
at him in terrified silence.), i,( •:■,,,, 



I'm much obliged to you. Here's \o our .pla Mend- 
ship, Mr. Sherwood. ; j it^ ■ 

(Drinks, then puts the glass doti/n 'dfi taUe.) 

■,,■;■• • ■• "•■,v \),^.^^::y:r\■l ■■ • 

Strange,, . \ ■ i..,-.,. t; .:^ \ 

Sherwood (fascinated). What?, 

Thorn DIKE (slowly). They told me it had no taste. 

Sherwood (whisper). What do you mean ? 

TnoYq^DiKB (watching, him). That in three minutes 
I shall be dead. 

Sherwood. My God! You— know ? 

Thorndike. I knew all the time. 

(Gathering himself up fiercely, he almost hisses the next 
words.) 

It was a little trap, Mr. Sherwood. 
Sherwood. A trap — for whom ? 

Thorndike. For you. (His manner quite altered^ 
fierce and vindictiife.) 

Oh, and you walked into it so prettily. > So prettily. 

Sherwood, What do you meau ? You — you're 
dying. I've poisoned you. It'snotI that's trapped. 

Thorkdike. Isn't it ? The gallows Mr, Sher- 
wood. You're very near it, 

Sherwood. The gallows! 

Thorndike. That was where the scheme came in. 
What do I care even if lam dead. {Gloating.) I 
shall watch you all the sanie — and be satisfied. Listen. 
(Speaks quickly, his eyes fastened on Sherwood's face.) 
It was when I heard you talking to-nighl that I got 
the idea. Sometime, you might commit a murder 



A TABLOID. 17 

.you said. Others heard it, as well, 1 was careful 
about that. , , 

Then I went to — to my garret, where I live now, 
alone, since my wife c^ied, and I wrote there a little 
note to be taken to the police. Do you begin 'to 
understand ? • 

Sherwood (hardly audible). Go on. 

Thorndike. I think you do. It was to fell 
them where I was coming ; to say that I had good 
reason to fear you, so that, if I didn't return, they 
would understand why. The police act quickly on a 
hint of that sort, Mr. Sherwood. They should be 
here — almost — directly. 

Sherwood. You devil. Sothatw^as your scheme, 
was it ? 

Thorndike {staggers to his feet ; glares at Sher- 
wood with concentrated hate). Yes. That was the 
scheme. I should have been dead soon, anyhow, the 
doctors told me that. And it was worth a few weeks 
to see you — now. Aha ! Mr. Sherwood,'the suceessr 
ful thief, who killed my wife and stole my triumph 
frorn me. . . . Now then 

(He staggers and sways, still watching Sherwood.) 

You're beginning to pay in earnest . . . the first 
instalment ha ! ha . . . the hangman shall collect 
the last . . . ah ! . . . 
Sherwood. How dare you 

(Movement, towards him. Thorndike sees it and 
laughs.) 

Thorndike. Too late. You understand. There's 
no need for that — now. Ah ! 

(He reels and falls lifeless, behind and a little L. of table.) 

Sherwood (trembling violently). My God ! He's 
gone. I've killed him. They'll fmd him here, and 
then — they'll know who did it. I've condemned 
myself. " Some day I might commit a murder," my 



18 A TABLOID. 

own words ; Knight knew ... he warned me. 
What's that ? Footsteps ... on the stairs . . . 
it's they . . . already. 

(Up at door, listens.) 

There is some one coming up. Ah ! 

(Loud knocking at outer door.) 

Caught, in a trap ... he said so . , . But I can 
have the laugh of him yet. . . . Ha ! ha ! 

(Knocking louder.) 

Knock away, you'll not bring me to the gallows ahve. 

(Snatches phial from table, and begins to empty the 
contents into his hand.) 

I can have the laugh of you still, with these. 

(Knock and crash. Outer door flies open, and Knight 
in his shirt sleeves bursts into room.) 

Knight. Sherwood, what is it ? I heard a fall. 

(Sees body on floor, starts back with terrified cry.) 

My God ! What's this ? 

Sherwood (r. of table). Ha ! ha ! It's you, is it ? 
Just in time to see your prophecy fulfilled. I told 
you I should commit a murder, and I have. 

That was my enemy, I stole his work from him ; 
he came here to threaten me, and I've killed him. 
What's the good of concealments now ? The police 
know who did it. Everybody knows. They're on 
their way to take me at this moment — but I can 
escape them yet. Like this. 

(Shows drug in his hand.) 

That's the poison that killed him. Now — it's my 
turn. 

Knight (horrified). Dick ! 

Sherwood. It's the only escape left for me now. 
Look. 



A TABLOID. 19 

(Puts hand to mouth and swallows the tabloid.) 

, Knight (rwsAtJi- jorward: catches his arm). Dick ! 
Good God ! Poisoned. 

Sherwood (stands motionless^speaks in a whisper) . 
Too late. I'm a dead man. 

(From behind the table, the grinning face of Thorndike 
rises slowly into view. He watches Sherwood with 
a little chuckle of amusement.) 

Thorndike (mildly). Oh dear me no you're not, 
Mr. Sherwood, any more than I am — they're quite 
harmless, those little lozenges, quite harmless I assure 
you. It was a little trick of mine, that's all. 
Sherwood (unnerved, incredulous). A trick? 
Thorndike. You said you wanted to know how 
it felt to commit a murder, didn't you ? Well, I 
fancy I've let you see — pretty completely. 

Sherwood {dazed). You weren't dead after all? 
Thorndike. You must accept my word for that, 
Mr. Sherwood. They used to tell me I was good at 
death-scenes. 

Knight. But I don't understand. What does 
this mean ? 

Thorndike. I've told you. It's the second time 
I've helped our friend here with his work. The first 
time perhaps was not quite intentional on my part ; 
this we'll regard as my revenge, eh ? We're quits 
now. 

Oh, and that blackmail, as you called it, Mr. Sher- 
wood — that of course was only part of my little 
scheme. (Fumbles in his breast.) I must return yo u 
the proceeds. 

Knight (glances at Sherwood). Coals of fire ! 
Thorndike (laying note on table). The ten pounds, 
Mr. Sherwood. And now. Til be going. 

Sherwood (passes hand over his eyes ; speaks as 
one waking jrom a dream). No, no. Stop. I've 
something more to say. Tell me, where are you 
living now ? 



20 A TABLOID. 

/ 

Thorndike. That finds me, Mr. Sherwood. 
(Giving card.) But why ? 

Sherwood. Because^because you've taught me 
more than one thing to-night. I ' ve treated you badly, 
but I'll make amends now. 

(Up to him, gives note.) 
Here, take this. As you said yourself — the first 
instalment. You'll hear from me every week now. 
I want — to make amends. 

Thorndike (takes note). Mr. Sherwood, I — I 
thank you. 

Sherwood (eagerly). Every week, remember. 

Thorndike (swi7es). Every week? That's gener- 
ous. But — it won't be for very long, Mr. Sherwood. 
Good-night. 

(He goes out sloidy at door u /J^he others watch him.) 



Curtain. 



Printed by Butler & Tanxer, Frome ani London. 



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